ce programme I had brought with me, the two
tickets I put away and have kept until to-day, suspecting that perhaps
there might be some rather important reason for this calculating
slyness."

"Pardon me; but a very serious charge is being raised against an absent
person, who cannot defend himself, and to defend whom is therefore the
duty of the next and nearest person, even at the price of great
indulgence. Have you any proof, any authentic evidence, that either one
of the tickets you have kept is forged?"

Madame Balnokhazy had gone to great extremes in doubting the
faithfulness and truth-telling of a man,--but rather too far. She had to
deal with a barrister.

"The similarity admits of no doubt, Madame. Since these two slips are
nothing but two halves that fit together, of that same letter in which
Lorand's good-hearted fairy informed him of Gyali's treachery; on the
opposite side of the slips is still to be seen the handwriting of that
deeply honored lady: the date and watermark are still on them."

Madame's bosom heaved with anger. This youth of twenty-three had
annihilated her just as calmly, as he would have burnt that piece of
paper of which they were speaking.

Desiderius quietly produced his pocket-book and rummaged for the fatal
slips of paper.

"Never mind. I believe it," panted Madame Balnokhazy, whose face in that
moment was like a furious Medusa head. "I believe what you say. I have
no doubts about it:" therewith she rose from her seat and turned to the
window.

Desiderius too rose from his chair, seeing the sitting was interrupted,
but could not resist the temptation of pouring out the overflowing
bitterness of his heart before somebody; and, as Madame was displeased
and Melanie was chatting with Lorand of trifles, he was obliged to
address his words directly to his only hearer, to Sarvoelgyi, who
remained still sitting, like one enchanted, while his gaze rested ever
upon Desiderius' face. This face, drunken with rage and terror, could
not tear itself from the object of its fears.

"And this fellow has allowed his dearest friend to go through life for
ten years haunted with the thought of death, has allowed him to hide
himself in strangers' houses, avoiding his mother's embraces. It did not
occur to him once to say 'Live on; don't persecute yourself; we were
children, we have played together. I merely played a joke on you.'..."

Sarvoelgyi turned livid with a deathly pallor.

"Sir, you are a C